


A Rush of Copper

by kueble



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Frottage, Getting Together, M/M, Vampire Jaskier, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 15:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kueble/pseuds/kueble
Summary: Jaskier lets himself go too long without feeding.  Thankfully Geralt is more than willing to assist.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 185





	A Rush of Copper

Jaskier doesn’t even need to ask because he can tell from the grimace on Geralt’s face that the mage wasn’t in the cave. He sighs and watches as Geralt scuffs his boot on the ground. They’ve been at this way too long - weeks now - and it’s starting to wear on them both. They’re past the point where offering hopeful words will help, so he just lets his shoulders drop and follows when Geralt starts stomping back towards their campsite. 

They’re almost there when Jaskier starts feeling off. His head is swimming and he realizes things are slowing down around him. Suddenly he’s overcome with the urge to just sit down for a bit, give his body a break. He’s about to suggest that when his vision goes dim and his legs give out on him. He expects to slam to the ground, but Geralt’s quick reflexes have him moving and Jaskier is kept upright by an arm around his waist.

“What was that?” Geralt asks as he ducks under Jaskier’s arm and slings it around his shoulders. He wraps the other arm around his waist and holds him up.

“I uh...I think I might need to feed soon,” Jaskier offers meekly. Geralt grunts in response and starts walking again, his body the only thing keeping Jaskier from falling over. 

By the time they get back to the campsite, he is more than aware that he has a problem. He tries to think back to the last time he fed, and it’s been at least a month. He hasn’t gone this long in ages, and he’s normally better about things, but this damned hunt was supposed to be quick and easy. He’s grumbling by the time Geralt eases him to the ground and helps him lean against a log.

“Let me look at you,” Geralt says as he crouches down in the dirt in front of him. He tilts his head and studies Jaskier for a long moment before continuing. “Your cheeks are hollowed out, your eyes are dull, and you’re incredibly pale. Why did you wait this long?”

“Well I didn’t think we’d be chasing this damn mage for weeks!” Jaskier defends himself, moping as he slumps back against the log. He’s been taking care of himself longer than Geralt has been alive, thank you very much. He is perfectly capable of fixing this. He’ll just head back to civilization and find a willing partner and go from there. 

“It knows what you are,” Geralt mumbles with a frown. “It knows what you are and it’s playing this damn cat and mouse game to try and get you to snap at me.”

“Well that’s just ridiculous! There’s no way it could see me for what I am...unless it had outside help,” Jaskier trails off, chewing on his lower lip. True, the mage wouldn’t be able to tell he is a higher vampire, but another of his kind would see right through his illusions.

“The original contract said the mage was seen traveling with a female companion at times. Vampire possibly?” Geralt suggests, and it really does make sense. With a huff, he realizes they’ve been well and truly played.

“We need a new plan,” Jaskier sighs out, “And to get me back to town. I’m sure I can convince someone to help me out.”

“We’ve been chasing him for nearly a month now. We are a few days from anything, Be honest with me...how long do you think you can last?” Geralt asks evenly.

“A day or two, tops,” Jaskier growls, clenching his jaw. This was supposed to be a simple hunt. Track down the mage, get him to stop being an annoyance, and get paid. Jaskier has been at this long enough that he has friends scattered across the continent, eager and willing to keep him fed. Normally he can just nip off for a bite and be back at Geralt’s side before anything happens.

“That settles it,” Geralt says nodding to himself. “You’ll drink from me.”

“Absolutely not!”

“I’m that horrible that you’d go mad from hunger? What, do witchers taste as vile as we act?” Geralt spits out, clearly hurt by his denial.

“I know that you are well-versed in higher vampire lore, so I’m going to assume you just forgot that my bite acts as an aphrodisiac?” Jaskier throws back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“So I either get turned on or watch you fade away? Not exactly a difficult choice,” Geralt snorts. “Besides, it probably won’t even affect me. Witcher constitution and all.”

“Oh, it will definitely hit you hard,” Jaskier laughs, “You’re not the first witcher I’ve been around.”

“Who was it?” Geralt asks, eyes narrowing.

“Bear witcher, decades ago. Sadly no longer with us, but trust me when I say you’ll feel it,” Jaskier answers quickly. 

He’s about to tell Geralt he can make it to the nearest town when another wave of dizziness sweeps over him and he feels himself swaying. Geralt darts forward and holds him steady, glaring as if he’s proven his point. Which he kind of has. Jaskier sighs and reserves himself to ruining the best friendship he’s ever had because there is no chance he’s going to be able to go through with this and not expose his feelings. The blood affects him, too, and he knows they’ll end up doing things he’s only ever dreamed of.

There’s a poetic justice to it; being saved by the one you’ve been pining over for years only to have him leave you in the dust once he realizes it.

“You’ve made your point,” Jaskier tells him softly. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’m sorry that the thought of getting off with me is that repulsive,” Geralt grits out, and Jaskier is tripping over himself to push that thought out of his head.

“No, you idiot! It’s the fact that you’re not a willing participant that has me like this. You, my dear witcher, are a treat that should be enjoyed and savored, and I hate that it’s going to happen without you wanting it,” he rushes out.

“You just explained how much your bite will affect me,” Geralt says, scrunching up his nose. “I will definitely be willing.”

“Yes, your body will, but your mind? Not mine to have,” Jaskier says, trailing off with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and wonders when he let it get long enough to brush against his chin. He notices Geralt studying him as he plays with the strands, which is oddly charming. He does it again to see if he gets the same reaction, but Geralt has moved on and is already mumbling to himself under his breath. After a long moment, he goes complete still and frowns at Jaskier.

“Hold on,” Geralt rubs a hand roughly over his face and slumps his shoulders. “Are you saying that you’ve never once considered that I might feel more for you than a friend would? That I’d spend _years_ of my life traveling with you, watching you invite countless others to your bed, and that I wouldn't be the least bit jealous of them?”

“Speak plainly. I fear my mind is not running at full steam right now,” Jaskier murmurs, not willing to believe what he thinks he’s hearing. There’s no way Geralt has feelings for him. Friendship, yes, they’ve gotten past the days of him denying that. But anything more? Not very likely.

“I need you to know, before you feed from me, that I will be a fully willing participant in whatever follows. Fuck...I was never going to tell you, not like this. I enjoy your company far more than I should,” Geralt offers, and Jaskier honestly can’t believe it.

“More than you should?” he drawls out, elongating each syllable.

“Don’t play dumb. I care for you, as more than a friend. Would…,” he trails off and looks to the side, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Would want this for more than tonight. If that was something you wanted, too. If not, then I understand.”

“So you...do you mean fucking?” Jaskier asks, because he needs to be certain, can’t hang his hopes on this and have it all disappear come morning.

“I’m in love with you, you prick!” Geralt shouts at him, and Jaskier flinches before collapsing in a fit of giggles. Geralt looks at him as if he’s gone mad, but he just keeps laughing, his eyes watering because this is completely ridiculous. _They_ are completely ridiculous.

“I love you too, you big oaf. Have for ages. Fuck, we’re a right mess,” he chokes out through his laughter, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” he says, forcing himself to calm down. “Well, we fucked that one up, didn’t we?”

“We never do things properly, why should we start now?” Geralt counters, but he’s smiling, big and wide, and it makes Jaskier wish he could feel his own heart beating. He knows it would be going wild in his chest right now.

“Why indeed. Since that’s settled, how about we get to the whole _feeding Jaskier before he passes out_ thing?” he suggests, and Geralt nods sharply. He looks uncertain for a moment, but then starts tugging his armor off, setting it to the side.

“Easier this way, and I don’t particularly want more blood on it than necessary,” he says by way of explanation. Jaskier nods in agreement, watching with wide eyes as Geralt strips down to his trousers.

He called him a treat to be savored, but it hardly seems to do justice. The flames from the fire send shadows dancing across the plains of his broad chest, and Jaskier’s mouth waters at the sight of him. His skin is littered in scars, both old and new, but they tell a story instead of a warning. He can’t help reaching out and running his palms over Geralt’s bare skin, smiling when he shivers and leans into the touch.

“How do you want to do this?” Geralt asks, suddenly looking unsure again, and that just won’t do. Jaskier offers him a warm smile before he answers.

“How about you let me sit on your lap? That way you can push me off if it’s too much for you,” he suggests. Geralt purses his lips while he thinks and nods after a moment. He shifts back and crosses his legs in front of him before tapping his thighs in invitation.

If Jaskier could blush, he would be right now.

But sadly he lost that ability centuries ago. Instead, he climbs into Geralt’s lap and runs his palms up the bare skin of his arms, grasping his shoulders and squeezing in what he hopes is a reassuring fashion. Jaskier chews on his lower lip, needing to take a second to settle himself, because he’s suddenly sitting in the lap of everything he’s ever wanted and it’s a bit overwhelming.

Then Geralt tilts his head to the side and reaches up to brush his hair back, offering up his neck to Jaskier. He sucks in an unnecessary breath through his teeth and nods to himself. This is fine. This is most definitely where he is meant to be. He traces the back of his fingers down Geralt’s neck, reveling in the tiny moan he lets out at the touch. He can feel the slow pulse beneath his hand and knows he can’t wait any longer.

With a dip of his head, he gives in and laps at the salty skin of Geralt’s neck. He can feel the slow heartbeat beneath his mouth and sucks down harder just to feel Geralt shiver under him. He grins against his neck and licks him again, hoping the numbing agent in his venom will work quickly.

And then he’s sinking his teeth into Geralt’s neck, a rush of copper spilling over his tongue. He moans into the bite and drinks slowly, taking the time to enjoy each mouthful. It’s even better than the last witcher he’d had, far more potent than a human’s blood. There’s a sweetness and the hum of magic as he feeds, and he’s nearly overcome with the need for more.

Geralt had a tight grip on his hips, his strong hands serving to ground him as he drinks. Jaskier is well aware of both their limits, but the gentle reminder that Geralt is there if he falters is heady. He’s quickly becoming blood-drunk, the sweet flavor of Geralt too much to handle. He rolls his hips, smirking against Geralt’s neck when the witcher bucks up in return.

Between the blood flowing across his tongue and the solid warmth of Geralt beneath him, Jaskier is drowning in sensation, his body taking on a mind of its own as he starts to grind his hips as he drinks. Geralt brings a hand up and threads it through his hair long, tugging enough to sting but not be a warning, and Jaskier groans and lets himself have a little more before they both hit their limit.

Jaskier pulls up, whining as his fangs leave Geralt’s neck, and laps at the marks he left there. His saliva works to stop the bleeding, and he’s sure Geralt’s witcher constitution helps as well. He licks up all traces of the blood and then leans back to view his handiwork. He can’t help brushing his thumb over the twin holes, proof of Geralt’s trust in him. 

Geralt shivers under his touch and looks up at Jaskier, desperation written across his face. His eyes are dark, pupils completely blown, and he whimpers as he leans closer, letting his forehead rest on Jaskier’s chest. “Need you,” he whispers, and the words go right to Jaskier’s cock. He realizes with a start that he’s straining against the laces of his trousers, his prick leaking in his smalls just from the feeding. He normally has a little more control than this, but it seems that Geralt will always be too much for him.

“You have me,” he whispers in return, smirking when Geralt whines again and rocks his hips up. Jaskier grabs a handful of hair and tugs sharply, forcing Geralt’s head back. Their eyes meet, and he can tell Geralt isn’t fully with him, but that’s why he was so intent on getting his consent earlier. As much as he wants him, he couldn’t just _take_ , would never use his powers against him like that.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, apparently fed up with Jaskier’s internal musings. He tugs at Jaskier’s shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere behind him. And then his mouth is on him, sucking and biting at the curve of his neck, and it’s all Jaskier can do to hang on. He throws his head back in invitation and lets Geralt explore, sighing as he nips at his skin and growls again. He cups the back of Geralt’s head and holds him close, unable to keep his hands to himself now that he’s allowed to touch.

“Kiss me, you beast,” Jaskier finally gasps out, chuckling as Geralt leans back to blink slowly up at him. He chuckles deep and low before bending down and dragging Geralt into a heated kiss. He’d always imagined their first kiss - if it ever happened - would be soft and unsure, but this is rough and eager, Geralt taking control as he plunders Jaskier’s mouth. He runs his tongue over Jaskier’s teeth, pricking it on a fang, and Jaskier moans as the kiss turns bloody. He sucks on Geralt’s tongue, the wound already closing, and shoves at him until he lays back on the dirt, tugging Jaskier down with him.

Jaskier doesn’t know where to touch him, can’t make up his mind as he runs his palms over Geralt’s chest, brushing his nipples just to see him squirm. He arches up beautifully, and Jaskier bends down to suck at a nipple, twisting the other between his fingertips. Geralt grunts and leans into it, whining as Jaskier nips at him, letting a fang catch his nipple. His hips buck wildly, and Jaskier has to stop before he gets thrown off, giggling as he places a soft kiss to Geralt’s chest before sitting back up.

Geralt is laid out like a feast, hair wild around his head and his solid body highlighted by the flames from their fire. Jaskier’s gaze keeps going back to the twin bite marks on his neck, evidence of his claim over this utterly gorgeous man. He trails his fingers down Geralt’s chest, pausing at the buttons on his pants. Geralt nods frantically and lifts his hips as Jaskier helps him slide the leather down his legs and out of the way. 

He looks even more gorgeous like this, naked and wanting, his heartbeat pounding in Jaskier’s ears.

He makes quick work of his own trousers, doesn’t even bother taking them off all the way, just shoves the fabric down to his knees before crawling between Geralt’s spread thighs. He wishes they had some oil, but then he realizes he doesn’t want Gerlt strung out on blood-lust for their first time like that. Contrary to popular belief, he _can_ be patient, and that will be worth waiting for. For now, he just lets his body settle on top of Geralt’s, catching him in another kiss as they start to rock together.

Geralt’s cock feels fantastic against his own, and they’re both leaking steadily to help ease the slide as they start moving. He holds himself up with his hands in the dirt on either side of Geralt’s shoulders and sighs into the kiss. Geralt is clinging to him, still wild as he keens and bucks up into him.

His cock is thick, and Jaskier whimpers when he thinks about how good it will feel inside him. But for now, he just ruts against him, swallowing Geralt’s moans as they chase their release. He’s close, far too close for this early, but it’s _Geralt_ and he’s stupidly blood-drunk and riding the high of finally getting what he’s wanted for years.

Geralt breaks the kiss and looks up at him, divine and broken, and Jaskier still can’t believe he’s allowed to see him like this, allowed to cause him to fall apart like this. He feels more powerful than he ever has, and for once his magic has nothing to do with it. Geralt has chewed his own lip bloody, untamed as they rock together. 

“Bite me again?” he asks, and Jaskier gasps, suddenly overcome with how much he wants that. Geralt tips his head to the side again, but Jaskier shakes his head. He wants something lighter; a deep feed wouldn’t be good for Geralt this soon after the first.

He bends down and flicks his tongue across Geralt’s right nipple, smirking when he cries out and bends into it. He presses a few kisses against his sweat-slicked skin as he moves to the side and then laps at him to coat the skin in venom. He looks up to see Geralt watching him with wide eyes and blows him a kiss before letting his fangs pierce the skin of Geralt’s chest.

Geralt howls and comes, spilling in hot bursts between them. He clings to Jaskier, moving with him as he keeps rolling his hips. He’s close, and the scent of Geralt coming between them is almost enough to push him over the edge. He grinds down, fucking against Geralt’s thigh, and sucks harder. 

The rush of blood over his tongue is what sets him off, and he cries out as his orgasm crashes through him. He doesn’t stop moving, rides it out as he empties himself across both their thighs. He keeps drinking, the hot flow of blood making him dizzy as his whole body lights up and sparks dance along his spine.

He collapses on top of Geralt, his arms giving out as he tries to settle down. Geralt seems more aware, more himself, and he’s mumbling praise against Jaskier’s cheek as he runs a strong hand up and down his back. Jaskier shivers, his skin cooling in the night air, and tucks his face against the hollow of Geralt’s throat.

“You still with me?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier hums in response. He’s not sure when the tables turned, but leave it to Geralt to break out of the blood-lust faster than anyone he’s ever been with. He trembles, his body still a little weak after going too long without feeding, and Geralt keeps rubbing him as they lay there.

He knows they need to move, need to talk about how this changes things, but for right now it’s all he can do to let himself be held. He knows that he’s never drinking from anyone else if he can help it. He’s a man lost at sea and Geralt is his port in the storm. The witcher is stuck with him, but the way Geralt is comforting him makes him think it’s more than ok. After centuries of life, he’s finally right where he needs to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [Tumblr](https://kueble.tumblr.com)


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